


Oaths

by DragonflyxParodies



Series: Reincarnate [1]
Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword, The Legend of Zelda: The Ocarina of Time
Genre: Everyone deserved better smh, Gen, I AM NOT PREPARED FOR THIS, It Gets Better?, Link is Overprotective, Not in the sequel tho, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Rebirth, SOMEONE EXPLAIN TO ME WHY THERE IS NO RELATIONSHIP TAG FOR LINK AND THE LOFTWING JUST A SLASH ONE, Soul Bond, THE FUCK YALL WRITING, Warning for amputation, We Mourn Fi in This House, You've been warned, Zelda's Not Very Nice, anyway, very sad, warning for suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:00:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23060590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonflyxParodies/pseuds/DragonflyxParodies
Summary: They were two. Incomplete, empty halves seeking their Soul. And their bond ran much deeper than love, than affection, than a dying oath to a Goddess. Their bond was their Oath, to one another, to themselves.
Relationships: Link & Crimson Loftwing, Link & Fi, Link & Groose, Link & Sheik, Link & Zelda
Series: Reincarnate [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1657318
Comments: 2
Kudos: 34





	Oaths

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of my favorite pieces/headcanons? Was originally posted on FFN, along with its sequel; I'll be posting that momentarily probably. Next chapter of The Ghosts of Hyrule is referencing this kind of? And uh. Realized I haven't posted it yet here bc I'm incapable of properly porting things overrrrrr so here you go!  
> Warnings for suicide and amputation near the end, but nothing super graphic (imo?).

_Oath. Protect. Us Guardian._

_-Always?-_

_Always._

_-Mine?-_

_Future._

_-Miss. Want.-_

_Future._

_-Want.-_

_Future._

-Want _.-_

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Link was terrified, unable to breathe properly, and he clutched Zelda’s hand tightly as she skipped her way up the steps to the Goddess Statue. Everyone in Skyloft was crowded around the courtyard, whispering excitedly and stroking the feathers of their birds while the creatures clacked and rattled to one another, whistling and crooning softly.

“Aren’t you excited?” Zelda gushed, slowing down and stopping when they reached a crowd of children their age. The children were as loud as the crowd, and his hushed silence was entirely out of place.

He shook his head slowly, not elaborating.

All of them could feel the aching, the void within them that their birds would fill when they were bound. Link knew that.

He just didn’t think his would _be_ filled. Zelda described hers as a faint hollowness in her breast. His was cavernous, a yawning pit throbbing ceaselessly. It wasn’t normal, he knew that much, and it terrified him. What if he had no bird? What if he’d be like that forever? What if he’d _had_ a bird but it had died before they got to bond? What if it died right _after_ they got bonded? What if he _had_ a bird, but it didn’t like him? What if it didn’t want to bond to him?

“Why are you scared? Nothing bad’ll happen.” She sounded almost amused, wriggling with excitement beside him. He closed his eyes, ignoring her.

It had been a surprise when the Loftwings’ breeding season had struck. The seasons were few and far between, happening once a lifetime. They’d been unprepared for it, even more so when the female birds flew away to birth—it had been months since most of the people of Skyloft had seen their birds. Today was a day of celebration, of joy.

A sudden hush fell on everyone, and the deafening roar faded, quieted. A cloud of tiny dots were heading towards Skyloft, slowly growing larger.

The baby Loftwings.

Link’s eyes snapped open in time to see the first bird descend.

It was small, far too small to ride, and gangly, chubby with its blue feathers puffed out around its body. It didn’t land properly, and knocked its way through the crowd of kids until it found its bond, crowing triumphantly—Zelda. She ran to meet the bird, face flushed, eyes wide, a massive grin spread across her face.

Link shrank into himself, seeing her joy like something sharp, violent.

The next bird to descend was yellow, the next green, the next gray. A black bird even showed up—the rarest color, besides red. A rainbow of Loftwings, each frantic to find their child amidst the mob of identically-dressed children.

One by one, the birds found their Bond.

And still Link stood there, numb and quiet and alone.

He made his way around the chaos, to the edge of the courtyard. There was an empty space there, with a diving platform stretching out into the blue. He settled in the grass, wrestling his anxiety down.

It would be okay anyway. As long as Zelda was happy with her bird, it didn’t matter if he didn’t have one.

A flash of red caught his attention—too late. Groose strode up to him, missing front tooth evident in his gaping sneer as a gray bird strutted behind him, as massive as the boy was.

“What’s wrong, Link? No bird want to be paired with a little runt like you?”

Groose was older by a few months. A week more and he would have been in the age group ahead of Link and out of his feathers, but fortune didn’t favor him so.

Anger coiled in Link’s stomach, but he remained silent, still. To dig at him about the lack of a bond was a very low blow—worse than mocking him for being an orphan.

“Hey, I’m talking to you!” Groose snapped, face contorting in anger when he didn’t reply. Groose stalked forward—

\--and Link cried out as absolute _agony_ ripped through his chest, spearing him cleanly through. He clawed at it, trying to remove whatever had stabbed him, but there was nothing there besides his clothes and his skin but why did it hurt so much-?

_-…now!-_

He screamed, the sound dull in his ears as the festivities stopped and Groose stumbled back, eyes wide with terror as he shouted for help. Something was ripping him apart from within, tearing its way out—

- _mine!-_

A shadow, something grasping his shoulders painfully, distracting him from the agony in his chest, blinking dazedly and watching people grow distant, frantically running around like the beetles Stritch liked to keep in a box at home.

Especially the little gold ones because everyone was wearing tan, and Stritch always said they were special, ‘cause they were golden. But why? The silver ones are prettier by _far_ , even if they’re creepy because they have pincers and thinking about them at night when there are branches outside the window— _no._

The pain wasn’t so bad any more. It was still there, still just as strong, but it didn’t hurt. It felt…nice.

And everything faded away.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

- _Mine.-_

_They miss._

_-_ Mine!-

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

He woke slowly, gradually. First he became aware of another presence, warm and thick and strong in his chest and his head and all around him. Then sensation—something soft and downy and something else that was soft and sleek and heat everywhere. But he was so tired, and the sensations were so distracting…

His drowsiness was too strong, and he slid back into sleep, though he was aware that it wasn’t the first time he’d woken.

It didn’t matter. He was safe.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

_-Away!-_

_…want boy…_

_-Mine!-_

_They worried._

_-Safe! Warm. Happy. Mine. Away!-_

_They want boy._

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Link couldn’t determine whether or not he was still dreaming.

Though still was the wrong word. He hadn’t been dreaming while he’d slept. Not that that changed anything.

Because he was curled up in a ball, held firmly in place by a great red-feathered wing, burrowed into the breast feathers of something.

A Loftwing, his mind supplied helpfully.

_His_ Loftwing.

He could feel it watching him, even without un-burying his head from its feathers to look at its eyes. Its mind was something sharp and angular and blindingly bright against his own, and its fierce thoughts tumbled like pebbles about in his head.

It— _he_ —was beyond happy. It had its boy, safe and tucked away and they were happy and _it had its boy!_ and its boy was not-sleeping and—

Its anxiety hit him hard. It was worried he would be scared of it, that he wasn’t looking at it because he didn’t like it.

_He_. The Loftwing was a _he._

He reluctantly squirmed around, and found himself staring into a great yellow-purple eye.

A squawk.

_-Mine?-_

He _spoke_. In his _head_.

The other birds didn’t do that with their people, did they? Wouldn’t he have heard about it by now?

- _Alright?-_

- _Mine alright?-_

He was asking if he was okay. Link nodded slowly, eyes wide with shock. A low hum escaped his bird’s throat, and Link slowly moved out of the shelter of its wings to look at him properly.

Everyone else’s birds had been hatchlings, babies just out of the egg, barely able to fly alone.

His was older than that. Link had no idea _how_ old, but his feathers were sleek on the wings and tail and his plumage was pure red, save the tips of the wings, where the feathers were white—no dapples that indicated he was a hatchling. He wasn’t large, by any means, but he was bigger than the others. Bigger than Link, if only by a few inches.

And they were in a big nest, in a sky Link didn’t recognize.

Link sat down in front of the bird quickly, before he fell. Warmth suffused his chest and he glanced down, fully expecting to see something. But it was just that raspy hum, filling both of their breast’s with joy.

- _Missed. Happy. Mine.-_ The bird nuzzled him with his beak, eliciting a cry of protest from Link—as the movement sent him sprawling on his back, and his bird promptly stood and plopped down on top of him. He was careful not to crush him, but _still_.

- _Mine tired?-_

And the heat in Link’s mind finally just… _connected_ with everything else.

He had a _bird_. He wasn’t alone. His bird didn’t hate him, or resent him, and wasn’t dead, and—tears started spilling from his eyes as the bird nestled closer to him, ducking his head down against Link’s, and Link wrapped his arms around his neck tightly, burying his face in the bird’s plumage.

_we._

It was clumsy, and Link fully thought that it failed—that his one-word message hadn’t gotten through—until his bird’s mind exploded with shock, with elation, and a sharp pain shot through his shoulder. He cried out, wriggling—his bird had nipped him, just barely drawing blood.

Not enough to be worried about, but the cut ached.

_-Always. Oath.-_

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The next time he woke up, he woke to shouting, and his bird’s anger thick and sulfurous and sharp. His bird was standing over him, a low hacking sound coming from his throat as he warned someone—or some _thing_ —to stay away. Link scrambled to his feet, blinking away sleep as his gaze adjusted to the sunlight.

There were Skyloft _Knights_ flying in the air above him, each frantically signaling each other. Upon seeing him, one of them cried out and their movements became even more frenzied.

Uncertain, Link clutched his bird’s neck tightly.

_-Up.-_

_what?_

_-Now. Up. We. Up. Now.-_

Link stared at the ringed irises of his bird blankly for a moment before he reached over and nipped him again—in the _same exact spot as before_ —and Link realized what he’d been trying to say.

He scrambled up onto his bird’s back quickly, intertwining his fingers in his bird’s feathers to steady himself.

Briefly, he heard his bird’s thoughts—his bird liked holding him better, but they’re _partners_ and the birds can’t make the people feel bad by carrying them everywhere, so onto his back Link went. Besides, he wouldn’t be strong enough to _always_ carry his child. Eventually Link would _have_ to ride.

That made Link giggle, and he burrowed into his bird’s feathers.

And then they were flying.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It took a few hours before Link could convince him to fly to Skyloft, like the Knights following them were shouting. First they played keep-away, and though he knew he’d be in serious trouble, Link laughed the whole while. Then they coasted as high as they could, then as low as they could, and his bird showed off until Link was breathless with excitement and his fingers numb from the cold.

All the while their connection grew, stronger and hotter until it was a coal in Link’s chest, tongues of fire reaching into his mind and burning there, not painfully but comfortingly.

He’d woken in his bird’s nest, deep in the heart of Levias’s territory, far past the edge of the skies Skyloft’s Knights patrolled. By the time they got to Skyloft he was mostly asleep again, drifting in his bird’s thoughts so thickly that they had to circle Skyloft for an hour before Link could separate himself enough to ask to be put down.

His bird balked, flapping up, going higher.

_-No!-_

_stay with me._

- _?-_

_stay with me. come down with me._

That thought gave his bird pause, and he hovered uncertainly in the air—and Link nudged his mind reassuringly, and slowly his bird spiraled down.

They had already been spotted, of course, and the people of Skyloft crowded beneath them as his bird slowly descended, lowering to the Knight’s Academy’s yard.

Link had never been there before—it wasn’t allowed—and his eyes were wide with wonder as adults poured out of its doors, clutching his bird tighter as they landed.

Zelda tore free of the crowd, running towards them frantically, and Link’s bird snapped at her, the feathers edging his head standing on end.

_no, she’s nice! zelda’s my best friend._

_-?-_

_she’s safe. friend._

_-No. Her. No.-_

Link frowned, but slid off of his bird’s back. There was a thick dislike, heavy and strong in his bird’s mind—almost like hate.

“ _Link!”_ A Knight scooped Zelda up before she reached him, and Link leaned against his bird as a number of other Knights began pushing everyone away. Link buried his face in his bird’s feathers.

“Link, come here.” He looked up, surprised—Zelda’s father was the one who’d spoken, and he was gesturing for Link to approach. His bird snapped again, wings edging outwards, curling around Link.

He didn’t move.

“Link, quickly.”

_-Oath!-_

“He’s not going to hurt me.” Link said softly, quietly.

“You’ve been missing—“ His bird snapped at Zelda’s father when he tried to move forward, and Link let out a squeak of surprise as he was crushed between his bird’s side and his wing.

_-Protect mine.-_

__“He thinks you’re going to hurt me, is all.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Within a month he learned that no one else could _speak_ to their birds, let alone others’.

He never told anyone, not even Zelda. Not when she helped the adults, helped them force him away from his bird and keep them separate and wouldn’t let him go flying and—

No.

That was their secret, theirs alone.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

_-Mine!-_

_are you alright? what’s wrong?_

_-Bad! Bad! Stuck! No up! No up! Kill bad!-_

His Loftwing’s rage hit him like a hammer, and he stumble, breath gone from his lungs. Zelda was too busy talking to her father to notice. He shuddered, regaining his footing as he adjusted himself to the other’s anger.

His Loftwing called Groose ‘Bad’, though the name wasn’t limited to just Groose. Anyone he didn’t like—including Zelda—got the name.

Which meant most of Skyloft, actually.

He realized Zelda was grabbing him, propelling him towards the platform extending out into the sky.

“You need to practice for the Wing Ceremony, Link! Standing around isn’t going to do you any good!”

“Wha—wait—“

“No excuses!”

“There’s something wrong with—“

“Come _on_ Link! How stupid do you think I am?” And she pushed him off the edge.

He didn’t have enough time to reach out to his bird, or to fully comprehend what had happened.

For Hylia’s sake, he _never_ spoke unless something _serious_ was going on! And she thought—

“ _Link!”_

A blue blur raced past him, and a second later talons closed around his arm, jerking him up violently. He let out a cry, even as the platform zoomed past him and he found himself diving towards the ground.

The impact drove both his sight and his breath from him, pain exploding from his skull. It wasn’t the worst hit he’d received, but it wasn’t the _best_ either, and he lay stunned for a long time.

_Ow._

_are you alright?_

_Hurts. Not always._

_-Mine?-_

_i’m alright._

Zelda’s bird sounded soft and feathery in his head, as opposed to the heat of his own Loftwing. It was an uncomfortable sensation, but the blue Loftwing had just saved his life—he owed her at least a query of her well-being.

He pushed himself up slowly, rubbing the back of his head.

- _Come. Now. No up! Kill bad.-_

_on my way…_

He didn’t wait to speak to Zelda, only paused long enough to run his hand along her bird’s crest before searching for his bird.

Seeing through his eyes was something Link still couldn’t get used too, but he found himself doing it lot to figure out where exactly his bird _was._

Through dark caves, infested with keese and chus, and down perilously fragile boardwalks—and, at the end of it, found an alcove too small to fit his bird nailed shut, bits of red feather and rage protruding out of the planks.

He saw red. When he came to, his hands were blooded and splintered and his chest was heaving, but his bird was shaking his feathers free, mind pulsating with rage. Link moved without thought, wrapping his arms around his bird’s neck and holding him close.

_are you hurt?_

_-Angry.-_

_who did this?_

_-Bad.-_

_groose?_

_-Bad.-_

Which meant Groose.

_let’s go._

_-Up?-_

_i’m going to kill him._

His feathers were damaged, and his muscles had been strained—it was a miracle that nothing had been broken.

But he could fly.

They found Groose standing in the plaza, joking around with Stritch and Cawlin. He didn’t expect them to land beside him, didn’t expect the blow until Link had knocked the larger boy onto his ass.

_stay away. fly away. now._

He was straddling him, pinning his arms uselessly against the cobblestone, pummeling him. Somebody was screaming, trying to grab him. Blood wet his already injured pain, agony shooting up his arm and _he didn’t stop—_

“ _Link!”_

“What’s going on here?!”

“ _You son of a bitch!”_

“Link, get off of him!”

“ _No!”_

Arms, grabbing him, forcing him back, _away_ from the bastard—

“ _Let go of me!”_ He roared, bucking.

Too late. Groose was up, clutching his broken face and being led away by two Knights.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

“Why in Hylia’s name would you attack—“

“He hurt him.” Link snarled, pushing himself to his feet. Gaepora blinked at him owlishly, startled.

“He nailed him up in a cave _too small_ for him and broke his _feathers_! Groose _hurt—_ “

“And that gave you the right to—“

_“He hurt him!”_ Link snarled, bolting upright.

“He stole him, locked up him, scared him, _hurt him_ , and you expect me to—to what?! He’s lucky you got there in time or I would have killed the fucker!”

And Gaebora’s face darkened.

The Wing Ceremony was suspended for a week—as a religious ceremony, Link wasn’t banned, and Groose needed time to heal. Link was punished, harshly, with increased work duties and restricted privileges.

Link didn’t leave his bird’s side

And then the tornado struck.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Traveling to the surface was the most agonizing thing Link had ever done. He couldn’t handle being so far away from his Loftwing for long—it was so _quiet,_ so _cold_ in his head and his heart—and he had to do it _over_ and _over_ and _over_ again.

Because of Zelda.

By the time he found her—even _before_ her betrayal—whatever affection he’d had for her, whatever love and trust and friendship he’d harbored was _gone_. Rotted, decayed, because his Loftwing was screaming above for him, battered and bloodied and tired because he’d been beating at the cloud barrier for so long in an attempt to get to Link, to get to the surface.

Those nights he _did_ get to the surface, he spent most of his time curled up beside his bird, buried in his ruby feathers clutching Fi’s blade to his chest tightly.

Fi was kind. She didn’t ever try to talk him out of his visits, or lie to him about what it was he was doing. She did her best to take care of him—of _both_ of them—and she understood.

That meant more to him than she could possibly know.

But then, form dim with Demise’s taint, she bid him to seal her away. To lock her away for eternity, to doom her to sleep. To kill her.

His bird shared his horror.

And Zelda, not even contemplating it, ordered him to obey.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

- _Alright?-_

_no._

His thoughts were small, and he rested his head against his Loftwing’s side, tangling his fingers in its feathers gently.

Fi’s blade—the Master Sword—glittered gently in the cloudy sunlight.

The cloud barrier had been dispersed almost two years ago, and Link adored showing his Loftwing around the surface. Adventuring was in their blood—and it let him escape Zelda’s attention, which was a gift in itself.

She’d expected things to return to normal, if at least partially, after everything. She’d asked him to stay on the surface with her, to build a city—a _home—_ with her. His refusal, she seemed to believe, had stemmed from his restless blood, not any hate for her.

_impa had eyes the same color as your feathers, you know. i think you would have liked her._

_-Gone?-_

_yeah. maybe in another life, hm?_

Link laughed softly, smoothing a stray feather out. He really thought Impa would have liked his bird—and that his bird would have liked Impa. They were both strong, determined. Dedicated.

His bird suddenly stiffened, snapping his beak together sharply.

_-Her. Come. Up?-_

Link smiled—as intelligent and dangerous as his bird was, it had never adjusted well to the complexity of Link’s language. When they were farther apart, sensations and images were sent in lieu of words, and that actually made communication clearer—but Link had adjusted long ago to his bird’s vocabulary and double-meanings, and he enjoyed that more than any other method of communication.

_...not yet. she might have something important to say._

His bird grumbled, shifting against him, but wrapped his wing securely around him. Link smiled slightly at the movement.

“Link?” It was a struggle to untangle himself from his bird—not just because of the wing in his way, but because he had to find the motivation to do so. Zelda was standing at the edge of Fi’s platform, hands on her hips.

“Why didn’t you come say hello when you got back?”

He stood up, unwrapping the bundle that had been resting at his side for the better part of an hour.

It had taken a long time to make—to carve the wood of Faron’s great tree and decorate it with bits of Time Shift stone from Lanayru and smooth tendrils of Eldin iron. Every day for the past two years, since she’d fallen asleep, he’d worked on it. His Loftwing had even added some feathers, brilliant crimson tied around the top of, contrasting sharply against the purple rock, silver metal, and rich brown of wood. The silver looked strange, but Eldin ore darkened with time until it was gold in color—and then was when it would be perfect for her.

A sheath.

“We’re leaving. There are other lands. Other skies. I came to say goodbye to her.” Link sighed, holding it reverently as he approached Fi’s blade.

It was the only thing he could give her that he was certain would stay with her until she woke.

He set it down gently at the base of her pedestal, and brushed his fingers across her hilt.

“You’re leaving?!” Zelda repeating, sharply.

_…may we meet again in another life…_

_-Miss.-_

His bird huffed, flapping his wings as he hopped his way up to Link’s side. Link slowly turned from Fi, nodding.

“…Tell Groose I said goodbye.”

And he slid up behind his bird’s neck, settling in carefully around the bags he’d packed of his things—provisions and supplies and whatever else he’d need on his journey.

“You’re just going to leave like that? Without saying goodbye to anyone?! What about _me,_ Link?!”

“What _about_ you, Zelda? You forced me down here, forced me into a war I wanted no part in, forced me to kill a man _you wouldn’t_ , and then forced me to cast Fi aside like _nothing_? You used me. Do you get that? Do you _understand_ just how—no.”

And great ruby wings flapped, and they rose up—up, into the sky, away from Zelda.

To a new life.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

They fell, not in battle, but by accident, by nature.

A storm struck them while flying over a great canyon, flinging debris wildly across their vision. A stone shard happened to strike his Loftwing’s wing, and they crumpled from the air, streaming blood and feathers.

Pain tore through Link’s arm where his Loftwing had been struck, and they screamed together as they spiraled towards the earth.

It was a miracle, when they landed in a cliff-face cave, tumbling over the lip into its recesses rather than farther down into the chasm.

His bird reeled, stunned. Link wasted no time—he scrambled out from beneath him and was helping push him onto his stomach and untangle his wing from about his body in an instant.

Loftwings had fragile bones. Hollow, flexible, but fragile. If broken, it could take ages to heal without mushroom spores—if the bird was in its prime, young and healthy, the bone undamaged previously.

But the rock had torn straight through it, damn near severing the wing from his body, and they were anything but young. Fit, yes, but dehydrated and underfed—they were in an unfamiliar place, home to strange animals and plants. Anything could be poisonous to them, and foraging was a long, drawn out process.

- _Hurt.-_

_you’ll be fine._

_-No. Wing gone.-_

_it’ll be fine!_

_-No up. Always.-_

He wasn’t even _feeling_ the pain. He was just feeling his grief, his shock, at never being able to fly again.

Link found himself laughing through his tears as he stared helplessly at the mass of bone and meat and feathers hanging limply from his body.

Red, red as blood, red _with_ blood.

_i promised nothing would ever happen to you. not after what happened to fi._

_-Bad.-_

It was said affectionately.

_…i’ll have to cut it off._

Grief speared him straight through, harder and more painful than anything he’d ever felt before—and a thousand times stronger than when Fi had gone.

_-Now.-_

And, with a storm howling outside, Link did. He butchered his best friend, and when he was done and makeshift bandages were wound tightly around his body, staunching the blood flow, he dragged the bloodied limb and tossed it off the cliff.

And he dropped into a heap and wept.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Link couldn’t stop the bleeding. Couldn’t keep the wound clean. Infection set in, and the dark stains upon the rock beneath them grew larger.

- _Future alright.-_

_no! i won’t let—_

_-Come soon. Future alright. Together future.-_

_“No!”_ Link burst out, slamming his fist into the stone beside him.

Hunger and thirst, had made him weak. He bruised his hand, but didn’t break anything.

“I won’t—I can’t—I won’t leave you. Not now, not _ever_!”

_-Mine not?-_

_…what?_

_-We oath mines. Protect. Two. One. Together.-_

As comfortable as Link was with his disjointed speech patterns, he found himself puzzling over what his bird had said.

The birds had sworn to protect their bond—that part was clear. But the rest? Two one? They were halves?

_of what?_

_-Soul. Together future. Always.-_

Link stared into his great, yellow eyes, words refusing to come as he understood.

A low, raspy hum thrummed deep in his Loftwing’s throat, and the bird inched closer to him, resting its beak on his lap.

-Mine?-

_what?_

_-Love. Mine.-_

_i love you too._

- _See future. Future life.-_

_if you die I die. I won’t go on._

_-Must.-_

_no._

_-Must. Blade want future.-_

_…if there’s a future life, and we’re reunited in it, i’ll still be a hero. we’ll still need her. right? we’ll see fi again._

_-Mine…-_

_it hurt so much before you. i couldn’t get it to stop—like there was a hole in me. that would drive me insane long before my time came. i won’t go through that again. it’s my own oath, alright? our oath._

And despite their grief, despite their hurt, despite their anger, all Link could feel then was affection. Love.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The next night, they went together.

Halves made whole.

In the next life.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

_And centuries, millennia later, after Sky had become Surface and Evil’s Bane venerated in a way befitting the Sword Maiden, a child blinked the dust of ages from his eyes._

_Some void within him leapt suddenly, and he spun sharply, clumsily dragging her from her sheath—gold and purple and deep, rich oak—and holding her out in front of him._

He _kneeled beside her pedestal._

\- “I’ve been waiting for you, Hero of Time.”-

_And_ His _eyes were the rich crimson of wind-tousled feathers._

**Author's Note:**

> Because of all colors, why red?


End file.
